Welcome to our weekend conversation!

A question came from a reader this week. This particular question came via text message:

Yes, it’s true. I was in yoga, thinking about AWP.

Actually, I was thinking about what we might discuss here this weekend, and whether people are too familiar with AWP already for it to warrant discussion.

Are you? Are you not?

Well, so be it. Let’s discuss AWP! (And yoga, if that interests you as well.)

The Association of Writers and Writing Programs’ conference this year will take place over the last weekend of March, 2025. The conference is held in a different city each year. This year it will be in Los Angeles.

There was some deliberation over whether it was a good time to have the conference in L.A., given the recent fires. In the end the organizers decided to continue as planned.

Listening to the LA community, we believe that AWP’s presence in LA and your attendance in March will help sustain and support the local community during this critical time of recovery. Discover Los Angeles confirms that our conference in LA will boost the local economy; keep affected hospitality, tourism, and transportation workers in their jobs; and hopefully aid the city in its recovery.

I think this is the right thing to do.

Perhaps, too, if you’re one of those people who feel like you need to spend every single second of every day doing AWP-related activities, you can take a breather and remind yourself that you’re not only helping yourself, but helping the city as well.

The conference can be overwhelming. For some of you, this might be precious time away from other obligations and responsibilities. Travel and accommodations can be costly. I’ve said this before and I will say it again: It’s perfectly fine to take breaks. Explore the city. Go to a museum. Find cute cafes away from the bustle of the conference center. Search for a local yoga studio, take a class.

As for the conference itself, what should you expect? What should your goals be? Should you have goals or should you just go and see what happens?

Naturally, the answer will be different for all of us. During the years that I went (Chicago, Seattle, New York, Boston, Minneapolis), I participated in a panel, attended panels, but mostly spent my time in the bookfair.

My advice insofar as book fair conversations go (and really all conversations), is just try to be present. Talk to the person you’re talking to. Everyone has something interesting to offer. Don’t panic and feel like you should be talking to so-and-so (unless you’re actually late to meet so-and-so.) Don’t obsess over status. Listen to people, the way you want others to listen to you.

When talking to editors, don’t bring up your specific submission. Don’t approach editors about a work that’s pending in the queue, unless it’s been a really long time and you’re just wondering how to handle this. In other words, don’t expect specific information about your piece right then and there.

If you’d like to know more about their journal, great. Ask what excites them most about their magazines. Ask if they have any theme issues coming up. Ask if there are any pieces in a recent issue they’re especially excited about. But don’t bombard them. Don’t expect your conversation to lead to a publication or special treatment at that journal. Be curious but courteous, respect boundaries, sign up for their mailing list, and when in doubt about how the interaction is going, thank them for their time, buy an issue if you want, and move on.

I’ve always enjoyed my time at the conference. In the years that I attended I got to speak to people I’d only ever known online. I got to have long conversations with editors I admired, about subjects beyond writing and editing. There were endless wisecracks. An editor nursed her baby. A famous poet sat behind me, snacking on small purple carrots. I met the OG founders of Submittable. I met the founders of NewPages. I caught up with writer-friends who lived far away.

I learned about small presses producing astonishingly beautiful books. I discovered new literary magazines I couldn’t believe I’d never heard of. Like just about everyone else, I left the conference with several pounds of gorgeous books from tiny independent presses and stacks of literary journals.

Of course, the conference is not without its downsides and challenges. It’s expensive. It can feel rather demoralizing to be surrounded by tens of thousands of people trying, just like you, to make a career in this difficult and competitive field. Because of the association with writing programs, it leans heavily academic, which can be a turnoff to some. Some of the panels occasionally sound like parodies.

The Self, Other and Liminal Space: Deconstructing Boundaries in 21st Century Hybrid Trapezoidal Erasure Poems

Figment or Fragment? Is the Sentence Half a Dream or is the Dream Half a Sentence?

Also, in the past I’ve expressed frustration with the conference’s failure to adequately address the crises in higher education. For many years, there were no panels whatsoever dedicated to adjuncts, which seemed preposterous to me, given the high proportion of writers who are also adjuncts.

In 2014, I wrote an open letter to AWP:

…[A]t your conference each year, we see panel after panel dedicated to “best practices” in creative writing pedagogy. How to teach comics in the classroom, how to “redesign your comp class,” new ideas for “challenging poetry students to think clearly…” As if it were just up to the individual teacher to make this all go smoothly. As if a well-run workshop has nothing to do with the economic realities faced by the person leading it.

You know what I think is great for creative writing pedagogy, AWP? Job security. Opportunities for promotion. Roach-free classrooms. Office space where teachers can meet with students. When professors do not need to worry about being able to afford lunch, or cobbling together a livable wage by teaching 35 classes, or whether student evaluations will be the difference between having a job next winter or not.

The following year, the conference did have a few panels dedicated to the subject of adjunct teaching. But it has never become a central issue at the conference, and to me this seems like a major omission.

So, that is what I have to say about AWP.

Is it worth going, if you can? I think so.

Is it the end of the world if you do not go? Well, it is perhaps the end of the world. But not because you skip AWP.

What else?

I know many of you are seasoned AWP-go-ers. What advice can you share?

Is it best to go in with some specific goals or best not to?

Should attendees try to go to as many panels as possible, or do a mix of panels and time at the bookfair?

For writers who meet lit mag editors, what are the best questions to ask?

For editors, what do you appreciate being asked by writers? What questions are rather annoying?

What AWP-things would you like to share this weekend?

And if you’re not going, have never gone, have no intention of ever going, what is your preferred style of yoga?

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